


Revival

by sb0nd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sb0nd/pseuds/sb0nd
Summary: When the war has ended and life begins to settle, it's harder for some to forget the atrocities they suffered. It's also hard for some to build a new life with no means to do so.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Severus Snape was lucky to be alive. 

At least that’s what the Order said.

He was also lucky not to be in Azkaban, lucky to be allowed back in the Order, lucky to be allowed back into Grimmauld Place and lucky that they weren’t confiscating the property Dumbledore had left him.

Severus believed none of it. 

He was not a lucky man. If he had been allowed the sweet release of death, he would’ve considered that lucky. If he had been allowed to wallow in his own self pity away from the noise and interference of the Order in Azkaban, he would’ve considered that lucky. If he had never had to hear the insufferable natterings of that ridiculous group or step foot in that miserable house again, he would’ve considered that lucky. If they had taken away his inheritance from Dumbledore...well he wouldn’t own as many books so he supposed hat would be lucky too.

Severus Snape was not a lucky man.

As he stormed inside his home and threw himself down onto the sofa, he resisted the urge to scream his frustration into the silence of the house. Severus was a composed man, he rarely flipped or lost his temper truly, but lying on the sofa kneading his temples with his knuckles he wanted to swear obscenely and smash something. After a while of lying there feeling as though he was on fire, the flames began to subside and he was able to get up and pace aggressively. 

The living room wasn’t a place he usually spent his time, preferring the silence and darkness of the dungeons, but today he appreciated the wide space, devoid of half-filled cauldrons, piles of books and parchment and jars of unsavoury contents. It was easier to swoop around in here without tripping. Severus stormed to the bookshelf where he gently picked up an artefact that had belonged to someone else. He handled it gently, rubbing his thumb along the metal spindles thoughtfully before launching it violently at the wall. It shattered, filling him with a feeling of satisfaction as he watched the pieces fall.

It was as if the smashing had cured him, because suddenly the anger dissipated and he felt exhausted. Slipping his cloak from his shoulders, he left it behind as he dragged his heavy feet to a bedroom he hadn’t slept in in months.   
\---------------------------------------------

 

Well that went well.

Remus remarked internally, alone at the table as the other Order members mingled and conversed in light tones. Harry, as ever, was the center of attention, gathering a little crowd as he discussed strategy and plans with a steely face that looked ever increasingly like James’. 

Remus watched for a while, observing how in the changing light of the sunset that sneaked through the window, Harry looked more tired and more determined than ever. The prematurely lined face reminded Remus of his own. How sad, to have missed out on childhood.

Tonks was stood as far away from him as possible, consciously keeping her back turned so that she couldn’t see him as she talked animatedly to Ginny. Her usually bright hair was a long sleek black today and it swished against her back as she moved her hands over-dramatically, hoping to both distract and attract Remus’ attention. Their failed relationship was still hanging over the morale of the Order like a raincloud. 

Molly wouldn’t talk to him, making any excuse to walk away when he approached. Ginny shot him dirty looks during meetings and even Harry hadn’t said much to him since the breakup. But of course, that was to be expected. Nobody would believe that he, the werewolf degenerate, could be anything but responsible for the relationship breakdown. The truth was that Tonks had gotten bored of him. He wasn’t the exciting bad-boy she had built him up to be in her head. Caught up in dreams of animalistic sex, dominating behaviour and risky ostracism in the wizarding world, Tonks had failed to realise that Remus was in fact a rather boring individual. 

His sexual appetite was largely mundane, his behaviour was hardly considered dominating and the ostracism sharp lost its appeal. The realism of the situation was that Remus Lupin liked to read books on rainy days, he ate too much chocolate, drank a lot of tea, took long showers and slept...a lot.

He wasn’t wild and ferocious, rather he was quiet, exhausted and a little bit dull. Had he told her this before she committed herself to him? Yes. Had he done so earnestly? No. 

Remus was no fool. If a beautiful woman were to throw herself at him, he was only human...well human most of the time. He had warned her feebiley, but her rose tinted glasses had prevented her from realising until it was too late. Remus had enjoyed her company and her interest too much to protest her advances fiercely. He was tired of being alone and having someone warm beside him at night had been a treat he couldn’t resist. Soon however, she was growing bored but Remus didn’t have the energy to give her anything more than empty promises. Her companionship was nice, but not worth extreme effort. He knew she would leave him eventually and nothing he could do would stop her.

Tonks had yelled at him that night, begged him to give her a reason to stay. He had tried to reason with her but apparently she was looking for a physical gesture rather than a vocal one. Apparently actions speak louder than words. It was then that she had left, as he had always known she would and as the front door slammed behind her, Remus traipsed upstairs to bed alone, knowing that his last chance at love had apparated away with Tonks.

 

He sighed, realising that he had been staring very obviously at Tonks’ back for a while as he got lost in his own thought. Kingsley clapped him on the shoulder genially, nodding a goodbye and Remus smiled weakly, returning to his lonely thoughts. The kitchen of Grimmauld Place would soon be clear and the only unfortunate soul left in its miserable hallways would be him. Well...him and Kreacher. 

He hated the place. It smelled like mould and as he paced the rooms like a dog in a cage, he realised how awful the last few months of Sirius’ life must have been, trapped in this cesspit. Despite wanting to be anywhere else, Remus had had little other option but to return to the place. After the war, Harry had taken his fortune and afforded himself the luxury of his first real home: a house near Godric’s Hollow with a lovely little garden gate, a wide bright living room and a few family rooms upstairs. It hadn’t taken long for Ginny to take her place beside him.

Hermione and Ron had stayed at the Burrow. Ron had worked at the Ministry while Hermione tracked down her parents and when she had succeeded, they used the money from Ron’s work to buy a place of their own too. With a rapidly emptying house, Molly had offered Remus a room but when things with Tonks went South, he daren’t ask her if the offer was still open. 

Kingsley had a sauve apartment in London, unfit for social pariah roommates. Moody’s house had been destroyed by death eaters. Dumbledore had left everything to Snape who wasn’t bloody likely to offer him a room, especially after what had happened tonight, and everyone else was too distant. It was at times like that when Remus really really missed Sirius.

Had he been alive, Remus would have wanted for nothing. Sirius and he could have lived out their days in Grimmauld, turning the darkness into light and making the place a happier, healthier abode. Or they could’ve used his fortune to move somewhere homier, leaving behind the cobwebs. Instead, Remus was trapped in his old friend’s old prison without a penny to his name.

Tonks was now leaving, without even turning to acknowledge him. Ginny nodded coldly towards him and Harry waved awkwardly from the doorway as she clasped his arm and led him away. Ron was following to retrieve Hermione’s coat as the other members bid him goodbye and filtered out one by one, following the cue of their new leader. Remus ran a hand through his own hair, closing his eyes as the noise in the room dimmed to silence.

“You should get a haircut.”

Remus jumped, shocked that someone had stayed behind to talk to him.

“Oh,” he smiled warmly as his eyes fell on the straggler, “Hermione.”

“You’d look ten years younger if you’d just tidy yourself up a bit.”

Remus barked a laugh, leaning back in his chair to observe his former student.

“Is that so?” he grinned, crossing his arms.

Hermione plopped herself down in the seat beside him, grinning too.

“Certainly.”

Remus had always liked Hermione. After he’d left Hogwarts she had sent him the occasional owl, asking for Defence advice. He’d always admired her intelligence and sensitivity. Unlike her partner, Hermione had a unique ability to read emotional mood and respond accordingly.

“And what if I want to look old?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Then you’ll miss out on a world of opportunity.” Hermione warned.

“Ah.” Remus nodded understandingly. “You mean Tonks.”

Hermione said nothing, simply mirrored his position and crossed her arms.

“I’m afraid Hermione, that you are quite wrong on that account. Very unlike yourself.”

“She’d take you back.” Hermione announced quietly without missing a beat.

“I don’t think so.” Remus confessed softly, “And truthfully I don’t think I want to.”

Hermione gave him a soft look, almost like pity.

“That’s a shame Remus.”

He smiled sadly, moving to stand up. His chair scraped noisily along the floor and he grabbed some leftover cups to take to the sink.

“I’ll survive.”

Hermione copied, tucking her chair neatly back under the table.

“I have no doubt of it.” she moved to the doorway but stopped before leaving. “But promise me that you won’t hide yourself away from the world?”

Remus observed her thoughtfully. She really was a bright young witch.

“It’s not healthy for a man to live alone forever. We’re social creature us humans. Promise me you’ll try?”

“Good job I’m not a human.” he teased.

She tutted and rolled her eyes, dismissing his self-deprecating joke. Conceding, Remus nodded at her with a smile. She smiled back before turning to leave.

“Oh!” she paused, turning back over her shoulder. “And do get that haircut.”

Remus laughed aloud as she disappeared into the hall. He heard Ron speaking and the two laughing as the front door of Grimmauld Place closed, echoing in the silence.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

When Severus awoke it was to find himself tangled in unusually comfortable sheets. He grunted, peeking through one bloodshot eye to assess his surroundings. He was used to waking up face down on his desk or aching and twisted as he slept on the chair by his cauldron. However today, the bedroom in which he awoke was pleasantly warm, with sunlight streaming through the open window. The light spring breeze made dust particles dance in the early morning sunlight, overall the room was a haven of peace and tranquility. 

Offended by the pleasantness, Severus stumbled blearily from the bed and staggered to the window, slamming the curtains shut with unnecessary force. He made his way unsteadily back to the bed, banging his shin off the bedpost and swearing loudly as he collapsed face forward into the soft mattress. Grumbling, he dragged his limbs back into the warmth of the sheets and curled up to fall back into an uneasy sleep.

This is the room he was supposed to sleep in. It was the master bedroom, but Severus barely entered it let alone slept in it. It was unlikely that it had ever been used. The house had previously belonged to Albus Dumbledore, who spent the majority of his time at Hogwarts and had only kept the house out of a sense of propriety. 

Severus doubted that he had spent much time here, that he instead saw it as a glorified storage unit. When he had first entered its brightly lit halls, Severus’ theory had been confirmed. The furniture was covered in dust sheets and each room was filled with knick knacks and curios that Dumbledore hadn’t the heart to throw away. Disgusted by the clutter, Severus had made quick work of vanishing or destroying most of the hoarded mess.

It was a large house with cellar, library, attic and more guest rooms than Severus had friends likely to visit. The rooms were all high-ceilinged and cluttered but ultimately the styling was rather plain, which Severus had been relieved by. He had never owned really a house, having stayed at Spinner’s End and then, at the earliest opportunity, Hogwarts. His bedroom as a child had been painted blue but the paint had peeled and never been retouched. As an adolescent he had papered the walls with notes, slytherin banners and defence diagrams, covering the moulding patches and crumbling paint. The crooked floorboards had been covered with piles of school textbooks, cauldrons and other school supplies, all neatly piled. Returning as a graduate, he had stripped most of the decoration from the walls and enjoyed the decluttering of Hogwarts paraphernalia. He had never owned much and therefore the room remained largely bare, a place to rest his head and nothing more.

He had imagined a home he might one day own. As a young man, this dream had always included a particular bright eyed witch at his side and he assumed that the fantasy of neatly painted walls, family photos and knick knacks, crackling fireplaces, comfortable chairs and light rooms were her doing. When this dream became an impossibility, his fantasy became darker with more sinister ornaments, shelves stocked with dried herbs and slimy things, dark coloured walls and empty hallways. This, he knew, was his doing.

When his parents had died and left him Spinner’s End, he had never changed a thing. Partly from indifference to a house he never inhabited and partly from nostalgia. He had returned to the organise the place one weekend, midterm. He had stepped through the door into a colder hall than he ever remembered. The house was the same as it had always been, dark, dingey and filled with haunting memories. He had entered the living room and picked up his mother’s glasses from their perch atop a bookmarked book on the sofa, their final resting place. Gently he had folded them and placed them in his robe pocket; the only souvenir he took to remember a life once lived. 

Decluttering Spinner’s End was as easy as decluttering Albus Dumbledore’s hoard. He had simply vanished his father’s belongings, never needing to see them again. His mother’s things were few. He kept the books, snapped her wand and burned her letters. It didn’t take long to empty the food from the cupboards as there was little remaining. An empty teacup in the sink and a plate full of crumbs gave him pause as he considered that it may have been the last meal his mother had ever eaten. Summoning old sheets, he had covered the furniture in case he should ever need to return and stepped out of the door for the last time, warding the house and walking away without turning back. There had been children riding their bikes in the road. They cast him a glance and giggled as his cloak swished menacingly around his feet but he paid them no mind. Smoke furled in the distance from factory chimneys and Severus made his way down to the filthy river where he could apparate away discreetly. It was here that he had met Lily, he mused, looking at the tree under which they had spent summer afternoons. 

Spinner’s End did not hold many happy memories but he would never sell it because the few that it did, where his only few. His childhood home had never been a safe place and he hoped in that moment that he would never have to return. He apparated away, back to Hogwarts where he would continue to stalk the halls and terrorise the children, never confessing to anyone that he had spent his weekend emptying the house of his now dead family. 

At thirty eight, Severus had lost everyone he had ever loved, not that the list had been particularly long to begin with. Some people had the misfortune of clearing the belongings of a dead relative, some never had to do this at all, but Severus had seen more abandoned houses of the dead than he cared to admit and the memories he had rescued from each broke his twisted heart a little more, beyond repair.

It was pointless trying to sleep now. He growled in frustration and thrust back the bedsheets, stepping out into the bedroom once more. He had slept in his robes but that was not uncommon. Many nights he had fallen asleep on the sofa or in the cellar over his desk, it was not uncommon to awaken in crinkled robes. His boots were abandoned by the dresser but he wasn’t about to fetch them and so he padded into the hallway barefoot, blinking in the bright light. The house had a tremendous staircase through the middle. It spiralled down to the ground floor, overseen by a large, hanging light fixture. Severus made his way downstairs, his robes sweeping behind him as he walked. 

“Oh Severus, you really must stop sleeping in your robes.”

He ignored the painted figure who chased him through the paintings down the hall.

“Aside from being unhygenic, you’re ruining good tailoring!”

Severus continued to ignore the voice and stepped into the kitchen, slamming the door where he knew his irritating lecturer could not follow. The kitchen was one of Severus’ favourite rooms of the house, not that he would ever admit it. Unlike his childhood home, it was large and clean. From the ceiling hung many dried herbs and copper pots and pans, the benchtops were cold black marble and the table in the center was tall and dark-wooded. A flick of his wrist sent the kettle whistling madly as Severus took a chipped teacup from the draining wrack by the sink and set about making himself some tea. He had just raised the hot drink to his lips when a knocking at the window startled him. He squinted suspiciously at the offender, a tawny owl sitting upright on the window ledge, leg outstretched to reveal a letter. Placing his teacup down slowly, Severus walked to the window, allowing the bird inside. It fluttered to perch on the table edge and helped itself to his tea. Sighing in frustration, Severus reached down and liberated the letter. The bird ruffled and took off out of the window, watched by Severus’ narrowed eyes. The letter was from Hogwarts, he could tell immediately. 

It was light-weight and held the crimson seal of which he was so familiar. Severus shook it suspectly before opening. 

 

_Dear Severus,_

_In two weeks time, the new term will resume at Hogwarts. I have left the position of Potions Master and Head of Slytherin open in hopes that you will resume your old roles. Despite the words of the Order last night, I will never see you as anything more than a brilliant ally, an exceptional potioneer and a diligent teacher._

_Until you respond, these positions remain entirely yours._

_Regards,_

_M. McGonagall._

Severus blinked at the letter, rereading the curled script upon the page. He had never seen entirely eye to eye with Minerva McGonagall but despite popular rumour, they had always been on pleasant terms. Their public discord was nothing more than friendly competition between their respective houses, professional banter and casual distrust born of different lifestyles. They had had many intellectual debates in the staffroom, oftentimes frightening away other faculty with the fierceness of their convictions but at the end of the day, McGonagall was the only person who remembered to wish him a happy birthday every year. Well... her and Albus of course.

Severus reread the letter for the umpteenth time, not sure what more he was hoping to get out of it. Abandoning his ruined tea, he stood and walked absently back to his bedroom, face still stuck in the letter as he considered his response.

“At the very least you could take off your outer robe Severus.” the portrait began again, but he paid it no mind as he climbed the stairs slowly.

The gentle click of the bedroom door closing plunged his life back into silence. Flopping gracefully into his desk chair by the window, Severus reached for a piece of clean parchment and a quill and wrote, in his spindly script:

 

_Even if I did have a burning desire to waste away my existence teaching brainless children until the day I die, I doubt my returning to your school would be in the interest of popularity._

_Severus Snape._

 

He’d send the letter later. For now he had a headache and the dim light of the bedroom was helping. He left the letter on the desk and moved towards the ruffled bed, sitting down heavily. Teaching had never been his passion but it had been comfortable and familiar. Hogwarts was a castle of hospitality and he suddenly felt a pang of homesickness for his old dark quarters.

He slid off his outer robe slowly, throwing it to the desk chair and lay back on the bed, shielding his eyes with his arm. 

McGonagall must be desperate if she’s looking to me. He thought bitterly and with his mind turning over quickly, he was soon drifting back into a disturbed sleep.

 

Remus had fallen asleep in the kitchen again. He awoke with his face pressed against the hard wood of the table and his eyes blurred in the sunlight which filled the room. A loud knocking sound had awoken him and he squinted from his horizontal position to see an owl tapping at the window. He moved a stiffened arm and his hand knocked against something cold.

Firewhiskey.

That explained the dull ache in his head.

He staggered to his feet, stumbling slightly as he used the steadfast support of the table to raise his aching body. He rolled his shoulders and neck as he approached the window, trying to soothe his aching muscles, but a night sleeping facedown on a table was harder to cure.

The owl fluttered in without invitation and stuck out it’s leg impatiently. As soon as Remus had detangled the letter, it took off into the daylight without so much as a hoot goodbye.Remus returned to his seat, wincing at his stiff back as he sat down. The letter was from Hogwarts, he recognised the crimson seal.

_Dear Remus,_

_I apologise for not being able to speak to you about this matter last night, unfortunately there were more pressing issues to discuss. It is my wish that you return to Hogwarts for the beginning of term and recommence your previous position as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher._

_I’m sure that you will find the salary agreeable and perhaps, if you are willing, you might also consider the additional post of Head of Gryffindor House now that my attentions are focussed elsewhere._

_Regards,_

_M. McGonagall_

Remus was convinced he was still drunk. He reread the letter blearily, shaking his head in disbelief.

Surely McGonagall was not serious! A more modern mindset might have been beginning to infiltrate the wizarding community but it was still inconceivable that the parents and more importantly, the school governing board would see a werewolf back in a teaching position. As much as Remus considered the proposal ludicrous, he was in no position to turn it down. As his eyes glanced up to take in the dreary, silent kitchen of Grimmauld Place, his answer became more glaringly obvious.

Dashing upstairs, past the covered portrait of Mrs Black, he headed for the library. He slammed the letter down on the desk and began searching for a quill and parchment. With shaking hands, more from lack of food and a hangover than from excitement, Remus scrawled out a reply.

_Dear Minerva,_

_If this offer is sincere then I wholeheartedly accept. I must warn you however, my return may not be met with popular approval. I would be honoured to serve as the Defence teacher once again and, if you are certain that you are not mistaken in requesting me, I would be beyond humbled and honoured to take up your old position as Head of Gryffindor House. My only hope is that I may do so with a manner fitting to your legacy._

_Gratefully yours,_

_Remus._


End file.
